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What Happens in Denmark	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Ron Views: 5795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of it. It's called FANfiction because I DON'T own it, right? Right. Good that we're clear.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 1
- 2
A/N: This fic was a christmas gift for the awesome starstruck86. It's
completed, but I'll be uploading it at my leisure. Shouldn't take
more than a few days, but if you're the impatient sort, it's already
posted in full on my LJ.

As I wrote this a back in...eeh, October or November (?), I may have
forgotten some of the warnings. If you notice something that I should
place as a warning that is not there, or if I've listed something as
a warning that is not in the fic, let me know and I will make the
correction. I'm working from memory here.

Yes, I have a mailing list. To be added email ladyloire@yahoo.com. I
will not add blank emails, but I don't require your life story
either. Just in some way, shape, or form, state that you would like
to be added. I will never spam you. You will only get email updates
about new writing.

Inspired by the song 'Warzone' by Framing Hanley

What
Happens In Denmark

1.

8:20 A.M. The streets of London were always packed at this hour, and
even after seven years with the Aurors, Ron still wasn't used to
that. Most of his co-workers took the Floo straight into the
Ministry Offices, but when the weather was nice, Ron opted for the
entrance nearest Diagon Alley. The walk and the crisp morning air
woke him up, and besides, it was as good a reason as any for the
morning fag.

He beat the new pack against the heel of his hand and opened the
cheerful yellow packaging, using his wand tip to light up. He inhaled
and breathed out a puff of rusty orange smoke. Apple-cinnamon
flavored. Not bad. The kiwi-mango flavor he'd bought on Monday had
been rancid, but well, no point being afraid of trying new things,
not after all he'd been through.

He
flipped open the Daily Prophet and skimmed the headlines as he
walked. 'Potter
to attend Charity Ball', 'Fire in Knockturn Alley Reveals Dark
Secrets.'

'Bloody
obvious, that,'
he thought. 'Knockturn
Alley, after all.'
He should be glad for the mediocre headlines; it meant the world was
relatively peaceful and he could look forward to a boring eight hours
of patrolling and handing out reckless flying tickets before going
home, but other than some goldfish and a telly, there wasn't much to
see there, either.

He
looked at the date. November 2^nd,
2007. The 2^nd.
'That
makes it one year, three months since the divorce,'
he thought dryly. To the day. He grimaced a bit. Not a day went by
that he didn't think about Hermione, but those thoughts were more
guilt than love. He knew it, and so did she, and that's why it was
over. 'For
the best, really,'
he reminded himself as he stared up at the ministry building, taking
one last long drag from his cigarette.

“Nasty habit you've picked up, Weasley.”

Ron
jumped. “Snape,” he sighed. “Speaking of nasty
habits, make noise
when you move.”

Severus
Snape. To be completely honest, Ron still had mixed feelings about
the man, even nine years after he'd come back from the dead. Okay,
'came back from the dead' was an exaggeration, but not by much. Snape
had seemed very much deceased when the trio had left him in the
shack, but three teenage wizards who didn't even complete their 7^th
year hardly counted for a certified medical opinion. Ron wasn't
really privy to the details, but somehow overnight Snape had regained
consciousness in fits and starts and managed to crawl his way out of
the shack. It had been Charlie who found him half out of the passage
of the Weeping Willow the next morning. He brought him straight to
Madame Pomfrey, and a few rounds of blood replenishing potion later
he was transferred to St. Mungo's. Ron didn't hear much more about
him other than that he was alive until three years later when he,
like today, had just appeared
behind him like a bloody ninja.

Snape
didn't officially work for
the ministry as far as Ron could tell, but he did work with
the Ministry. Every now and again he would just appear, or there
would be crates of potions sitting in the Auror Offices with his
handwriting on them. Ron also suspected he'd had a hand in capturing
some dark wizards for the Ministry, but he had no real proof of this
and he doubted anyone at the ministry would admit to it.

It
had been nine years since Snape had been declared innocent and he was
still living in the shadows because it was easier for everyone to
deal with him when they could pretend he didn't exist. 'Fucking
sad, though. The guy's a hero, but because he's got a face only a
mother could love, nobody wants to admit it. It's easier to pretend
the whole thing was on Harry. We'd never have made it without this
bloke. Still, he's kind of an antisocial twat, too.'
Ron had really come to respect Snape over the years, but that didn't
mean he had to like him. Being a hero didn't make him any less of a
jerk, really, but he tried to be polite to his former professor
anyway. Sometimes it was easier than others.

“How did you ever manage to capture 17 dark wizards last year
if you cannot even tell when someone is behind you?” Snape
drawled.

Ron wrinkled his nose, annoyed. He had had a pretty good year last
year, and on the one hand it was flattering that Snape knew that, on
the other it pissed him off the way he'd mentioned it. “Must
be dumb luck,” he snipped.

“Then I suppose you had better hope it doesn't run out,”
Snape answered as they both crammed themselves into the red phone
booth.

“Yeah, well, thanks for caring,” Ron muttered
sarcastically. He didn't think Snape really gave even half a damn.
“But I manage alright.”

“Hm,” Severus answered. Ron opened his mouth to ask what
that was supposed to mean, but the door snapped open and Snape
wriggled out of the booth and headed for the front desk.

Ron
sighed and brushed past him towards the elevator. Snape was really no
way to start a morning. 'Hm.
What does 'hm' even mean? Like he knows everything there is to know
about me even though we've never said more than three sentences to
one another. He doesn't know me.'

“Whoa!”

Ron startled as he nearly walked head first into Harry. “Oh,
sorry mate.” Harry. Right after Snape, it just had to be Harry.
They were best mates, always would be, but things were...complicated
now. They'd been so close. Too close. When Ron realized what he
needed physically from a relationship was something his wife could
never give him, a few drinks had made it easy to fall into Harry's
arms and his bed. It took him three long years to get himself out of
it, and what did it was Harry lying there naked, telling him, 'I'm
going to ask Ginny to marry me.' Ron knew what that meant –
this has to stop, we've gone too far, let's just go back to the way
things used to be. He'd said 'yeah, no, I mean, of course, that's
great!' But that hadn't been what he meant at all. Now Harry acted
like three years of sneaking around behind Hermione's back had never
happened, and Ron still felt the weight of guilt that tore six years
of marriage apart.

“Ron, what's up?” Harry asked. “You sort of look,
well don't take this the wrong way, but sort of like something
crawled up your arse and died there.”

'Yeah,
you'd know all about things up my arse, wouldn't you, Harry?' Ron
thought irritably, but he knew that wasn't fair. It had been two
years since the last time they'd been in bed together. Harry had
been married to his sister for over a year already and they seemed
happy, and Ron would be damned if his own hang-ups were going to ruin
that. “It's nothing,” Ron snapped. “Fred died.”
His fish. He wasn't the creative sort, so he kept naming them after
his family and friends, but somehow, the 'Fred' fish never lasted
long, and every time it did he was reminded of the real Fred and how
he was taken from them too soon, too.

Harry sighed and patted Ron's back. “Mate, you've gotta stop
naming your goldfish after people you know.”

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. He grasped for
straws for some way of changing the subject. “Saw Snape on my
way in,” he said.

“Yeah?”
Harry perked up. He'd been on a mission to make amends with Snape
ever since the end of the war, but so far all of his efforts were in
vain – it wasn't that Snape seemed against making peace, he
just didn't seem to care enough to be bothered to do so, like the
very concept was a nuisance. Ron couldn't count how many times he'd
heard the words 'What do you want now,
Potter?' On the one hand, he felt a little guilty about dumping
Harry on Snape, who obviously didn't want to be bothered with him
(even Ron thought the 'let's be buddies now!' way Harry attacked
Snape was kind of annoying, though he'd never say so), but on the
other, it got Ron off the hook, and so, Snape, who was a jerk anyway,
would just have to be sacrificed for the greater good. You know,
just this once.

“Carrying
a box of something, as usual,” Ron confirmed as he made his way
over to the duty board to check what he was scheduled to do today.
He read the letters next to his name, tilted his head, and tried to
figure out what the abbreviation could possibly mean other than
someone's lame idea of a joke. He read the board carefully. Next to
Harry's name it said PT3. That meant patrol 3^rd
district. Other co-workers to do had things on it like 'GSTM.' G
stood for guard duty, which wasn't that uncommon at the various
wizarding hospitals or banks, or at special events like book signings
and concerts. STM was the abbreviation for St. Mungo's. But no
matter how much Ron analyzed the board, it still very clearly read:
“Ronald Weasley: SAP.” The letters jabbed at his
masculine pride, of which he had very little left, and would
therefore prefer as little jabbing as possible.

Harry grinned at him. “Didn't read the memo on new
abbreviations, huh?”

“I read it!” Ron protested. “...or, well, there
was another new memo?”

“Specially Assigned Project, mate,” Harry whispered.
“Best go see Kingsley for the details.” Harry shrugged
and said, “I'm gonna see if I can catch Snape on my way out,”
he said, looking put out by patrol duty. He hated it, always
complained about it being dull as dirt. Flying around all day was
cool, but Harry was the last person who should be giving out tickets
for reckless flying as far as Ron was concerned.

Ron nodded briefly then looked back at the board. SAP. Someone
really needed to talk to Kingsley about his use of acronyms. He made
his way to the back of the Auror offices and knocked on the man's
door.

“Come in, Ron,” Kingsley said, and when Ron pushed the
door open, it was to find Severus Snape sitting opposite his boss.

When
had he sneaked by? Wait. Kingsley, Snape, and he had a special
project? 'Bollocks.'
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What Happens in Denmark